Love Is All
by blood red youth
Summary: Love is all, from what I've heard, but my heart's learned to kill. The story of Mr Crepsley's decision to leave the Generals as mentioned by Gavner in Tunnels of Blood, pre-book.
1. Chapter 1

this is hopefully the first part in a three part story about mr c leaving the generals. so far im loving writing this; i have the next part finished and in comparison to everything else ive written here im really proud of it! so i hope you enjoy reading as much as i have enjoyed writing

this takes inspiration from "love is all" by tallest man on earth - such a great song with such an ironic title. probably not as appropriate for this chapter as for the next, but i recommend listening anyway.

hope you enjoy!

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><p><em>love is all, from what I've heard, but my heart's learned to kill.<em>

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><p>The tension had been unbearable for two weeks already when Larten finally left the Mountain. He had announced his intention to leave only to the Princes at first, weeks ago now, and thanked them in his typical overly polite fashion for all the opportunities afforded to him. For the rest of them it hadn't been particularly ground-breaking news – Paris and Vancha acted as though it had come as no surprise, having noticed a change in the dedication of the high-ranking General over the past couple of years, and Arrow had simply agreed to Larten's request for permission and not thought much else about it, never having been especially close to the orange-haired vampire. For Mika, it had been a very different ordeal. Though he had not relished the thought of Larten joining him as a Prince, he respected the younger vampire enough to understand that he had deserved it every bit as much as the rest of them, and would not have opposed it. In any case, being forced to deal with Larten's infuriating smirk for the rest of his days seemed preferable now to the situation he had been left with.<p>

However many times she had pushed him back and distanced herself from him, Mika had never lost a sense of responsibility for Arra, even if he had learned to hide it. His first thought, however inappropriate, when Crepsley had announced his intention to leave the clan behind, was whether his mate was planning to join him, or indeed whether she knew at all. He had not approached Larten about it – the two maintained a cool distance, years of awkward history behind them that neither wished to delve into in order to achieve a warmer relationship – but he had watched him closely for the next few days. When he had told the Princes, Larten had requested silence about his resignation. Mika had subtly observed his relationships around the Mountain and slowly came to the realisation that none of Larten's acquaintances seemed to know anything about his intentions. Young Gavner Purl, who had never been one to keep his emotions under particular cover, seemed as cheerful and ordinary as ever, and even Seba seemed relaxed and happy with his former assistant. Careful to keep up the pretence of discussing plans for a new tunnel leading towards a slightly safer entrance to the Mountain with Arrow, Mika had watched Larten and Arra eat a quiet breakfast alone one morning, talking and even _laughing_ together as they had always done. It was from Arra's behaviour more than anyone's that Mika knew that nobody had any idea. She had always been fiercely loyal to the clan, and if the idea of resignation had made Crepsley seem ungrateful and borderline treacherous to him, he could only imagine the way it would seem to her.

Trying not to watch them too closely after that, Mika had been in silent turmoil. He was no longer close to Arra particularly, still a little jilted from all those years ago when he had loved her and she had chosen someone else, but occasionally he passed her in Halls and corridors and every time he observed her carefully, watching for any sign that she had either been told or had figured it out for herself. He cared immensely for her still, perhaps he would never stop, and he knew how much the concept of her own cluelessness would hurt her later, when the truth eventually was revealed.

One night, against all his better judgement, Mika had called her over to sit down.

She had only come reluctantly, and with a cautious look in her eyes – the two of them had not spoken one-on-one for over a year, and even before then they had not been at ease together for easily twenty-five. She slid into the seat opposite him and smiled uncomfortably. "Good evening, Mika," she said, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear and allowing her eyes to dart around the Hall, unwilling to settle on him. She had obviously been training, flushed and still brimming with energy. She was very much changed from the young vampire he had grown apart from. She was a General now, and though she had not physically aged much, he could tell the difference in her new, hard eyes, and the critical firm line of her mouth. Before she had been very young, full of talent but inexperienced, but now she was a professional. He was proud for a second before he realized that the feeling was inappropriate. "Is there something you needed to discuss with me? I do not mean to rush you, but I agreed to attend a briefing –"

"—I promise I won't keep you long," Mika reassured her, put off by the business-like way she addressed him, as though she had forgotten all about their past together now and he was just one of the Princes to her, a meaningless superior. He forced himself to clear his throat, and then finally met her eyes. "Arra, have you spoken much to Larten?"

It was the worst choice of topic for their first conversation in such a long time, and Mika flinched after he let the foolish sentence slip out. Arra remained silent, observing him suspiciously.

"With all due respect, Sire," she said coolly, and nothing infuriated him more than to hear that distant way of speaking again. "I often do speak to him, as is the nature of being mates. I speak to him every morning and every evening and sometimes indeed we even speak in between. Is that all you were intending to ask me?"

She was annoyed already, he couldn't help noting, her infamous temper constrained by the vampire hierarchy and years of hard work on her decorum. It was also painfully clear that she had no idea – how had Larten not been intending to tell her, how could he have been such a coward? "No, that's not all," he said, and clenched a fist under the table. She raised one dark eyebrow, and he threw himself into it fully, seeing no other way around it. "Has he told you about his intention to leave the clan?"

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then his old Arra was back for a second, letting out a scoff at his ridiculousness. "He has no such intention," she sniffed, not glaring at him but narrowing her eyes. "He is about to be invested. You of all people would know, Sire."

"No," Mika said quickly, sensing her temptation to leave. "I promise you, Arra, he has no intention of going through with the investiture. He has already approached the Princes about his resignation."

Arra opened her mouth and shut it again, speechless, and then leaned in across the table towards him, frowning deeply. "What possible business is this of yours?" she hissed venomously. "If Larten is intending to resign, which is completely implausible in itself, then Larten _himself_ I'm sure would tell me in his _own _time. How can you suggest that it is of any of your concern _at all _whether _my mate_ has told me something yet or not?"

Mika was regretting it all already, wishing he had never told her, but it was far too late to turn back. "There is no reason for me to lie to you," he pointed out. "And to me, Arra, you are still my assistant. I care too much to see you remain in the dark about his plans."

It was the final straw for her. "You have lied to me before," she said frostily. "You have never seemed to need much of a reason. And, besides that, I am not your assistant anymore. Don't feel the need to exert yourself in interfering in my affairs in future – as I have told you before, I am of no concern to you any longer."

Responding to that would have been pointless and humiliating, and so Mika had remained silent and watched her back as she stormed away. He had felt terribly guilty that night, and every night for another week after that, wondering if he had interfered inappropriately with Crepsley's master plan and, in the end, injured her pride even more. The next night he had expected to see one of the pair of them, possibly Crepsley in a fury or Arra to join him in resigning. He in fact saw them only together, enjoying another quiet meal alone, exactly as before, talking and laughing as ever. As Mika had made to leave, finished with his bat broth, he noticed Arra pressing the fingertips of her left hand to his right. He knew then that his words had impacted her profoundly, and watched unabashed as she reminded Larten without any need of words of the promises he had made her decades ago, searching his eyes while he spoke for a shred of insincerity. As he leaned in to kiss her, a rare public display of affection for them, she kept her eyes open, and met Mika's across the room briefly before standing to leave.

Every night had been the same after that. They arrived together as usual every morning, and Mika watched his former assistant become more and more affectionate. It did not suit her; she was a private person by nature, and the needy way she wanted their hands constantly to be entwined, or the possessiveness of the kiss she delivered him every time he stood to leave (probably to attend to his General duties that, as she knew deep down, no longer existed) were a sure sign of her desperation, even if only to Mika.

The morning when neither of them appeared for breakfast was the morning Mika knew the storm had finally hit. Word spread fast among the Generals, to whom it had come as a shock, none of them seemingly having expected Larten out of anyone to defect. He noticed Arra training as ever that day, two younger vampires in tow, but he didn't focus too long on her. He had half-expected to feel a little triumphant when the day finally came, happy that she would finally realize that he had not been telling her lies, but there wasn't a shred of happiness involved. He remembered how it had felt to be heartbroken far too well, and he had absolutely no desire to say _I told you so_ with that familiar heartbreak written all over her face.


	2. Chapter 2

For Larten, it had not been the past days or the past weeks that had been unbearable, it had been verging on years. The feeling of dim dissatisfaction had crept inside him five years ago, and it had built and built to this unbearable sensation of being trapped. It had all started one night in Berlin, cold and alone in an abandoned apartment block, searching fruitlessly for a vampire who did not particularly deserve to be tracked down. He supposed he might have been able to find the rogue faster had his heart been in it. Respect had still meant so much to him then that he eventually forced himself to capture the younger man, little more than a half-vampire really, and drag him back to the Mountain to face the obscure justice dished out by the clan. All the child had really done was take a brief walk on the wild side. Not only did it feel, when they executed young Nikodim, like a terrible waste of a life, but it also felt like a terrible waste of his time. He spent so little time with his friends or his mate, so occupied with earning a better place in the clan, that he began to feel his ambition a little pointless. When he had stopped wanting to push himself any higher, those around him had taken over the task. He of all people knew how hard Arra had worked for the respect she'd gained – how could he explain to her his ingratitude?

That was what had bothered him the most when he had risen to leave. Relieved as he was to be free of the constraints of his job, _finally_, he felt more like a coward than ever for having failed to tell Arra about his change of heart. He knew too well that she would never appreciate how much he _needed _to escape, and he knew that whether he told her or not she would consider it a betrayal. He still loved her, certainly, and he was sure, deep down, that he would never find anyone to replace her. But, as awful as it made him feel to think about it, she was trapping him too. It had been nearly thirty years now for them, and though they had often argued, they had never substantially morally disagreed about anything – but he had watched her fight to become a General, and take so much pride in her hard-won achievements, that he knew that this would be the fatal exception. He toyed with the idea of telling her plenty of times, but he never seemed to manage it. Most of all he couldn't bear the thought that she would resent him forever, but however long he mulled it over, he knew there was no way out of that. Occasionally he entertained the idea that she would come with him, and at first he had been convinced that he wanted that. He imagined them leaving this hierarchical system behind together in favour of something freer, perhaps leaving to explore the world and travel more extensively, as they had done years ago when they hadn't been so occupied with their respective duties. But the longer he mulled it over, the more he realised that he could not imagine them together outside of this system like he had been able to before. She was irreversibly tied in with the way of life he no longer desired for himself. Perhaps, even as much as he knew he loved her, Arra's role in his life was entirely intertwined with his role as a General.

He had not hidden it well at all, he supposed, from the way he had noticed her behaviour begin to change. She had become constantly interested in his whereabouts in a way that she would have disapproved of had he demonstrated it to her, even more interested in his investiture and his plans for the years ahead, and steadily more affectionate in a way that did not resemble her at all. He hated himself for it, but there was nothing he felt he could do but offer her the reassurance she constantly asked for. She was somehow even lovelier than ever when she wanted to hold his hand everywhere they went, and perhaps it was a mixture of that and his own reluctance to destroy their relationship before it was entirely necessary that kept him leading her on.

There had been one night where he had come close to revealing his intentions. He had convinced himself that it was the right time, one night after pretending to work for seven hours while she trained a few of the young vampires who intended to be Generals ahead of their first few challenges. He had slipped into the Hall behind her and stood next to the grand stone entrance, watching as the new potential Generals fenced, honing their swordsmanship skills. Afterwards, he listened to her explain to the six boys the prestige of the position they would hold if they managed to pass the tests the Princes were going to set them. The devoted way she spoke about it just reinforced the way he felt; the way she emphasized not only the importance but the necessity of well-trained and loyal Generals for the continued success and even existence of the clan made him feel a little bitter, watching the faces of the young men who listened to her and wondering if any of them would regret undertaking the position the way he did.

It was only when she dismissed them that she finally noticed him. All of the youngsters knew of him and respectfully bowed their heads, which made him feel a little worse still, and his mate bowed low in a mockery of the formality the boys used to address him, smirking. The others filed out after putting back their weapons, all nudging each other and mocking each other's performances in their training session. Larten waited until the last of the six had scuttled past, and then cleared his throat, staring straight ahead rather than meeting his mate's eyes.

"Arra," he had sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. There had been the worst lump in his throat, he remembered, but he had battled through it, convinced that he was doing the right thing. "I really need to speak to you. Would –"

"_Catch!_" his mate had interrupted, and his head snapped up just in time for him to grab the handle of the sword she had sent hurtling towards him. In shock at how close she had come to slicing off one of his arms, he let out a bark of laughter, forgetting for a second the importance of what he had been about to tell her. It was just like his old Arra again, before everything had become serious – tricky and playful and pleasantly unpredictable. She laughed as well, from the other side of the Hall, and slipped off the heavy knitted jumper she had been wearing, stepping onto the mat and brandishing an identical sword.

Larten had rolled his eyes good-humouredly. "I want to speak to you, Arra," he said seriously, though he was charmed by the entire display. "I would rather speak to you without either of us brandishing a sword, if that is alright by you."

She let out a derogatory _pfft_ at that, rolling her eyes and shifting from foot to foot in anticipation. "Don't be so boring and old about it," she told him, one hand on her hip. "You used to love playing games."

It was true. Years ago he had loved the occasional sparring match with Arra, though they had scarcely been fairly matched. He felt bad for it, but he remembered the days where he could have beaten her with one arm tied behind his back very fondly indeed. There was so much less charm in it now that they were serious warriors – when did they ever fight these days if it wasn't to kill? – but he had never been particularly adept at refusing any request of Arra's, and so he stepped up to face her.

The fight resembled one of theirs from decades ago, but only because she forced it to be so. Arra had trained for years solidly, focusing more on her skill in battle than on any other facet of her career, and Larten knew now that she was probably his superior in this environment. She had been studying this for years, and he had watched her take down others on strategy and technique alone. This time, though, she was not focusing on her footwork. She was irresponsible with the risks she took as she darted forwards and back at him, leaving ridiculous gaps in her defence, practically dancing around him. As much as he made the effort to keep his mind on what he had intended to tell her in the first place, it was more difficult than he could have imagined when she looked so cheerful, daring him to strike back at her. When he finally did, he only struck at her playfully. It was all too clear that she knew something was wrong from the way she revisited the way they used to play-fight, as if delivering him a subtle reminder that they were still the same people they had been all those years ago when he had first fallen for her. However much Larten knew they weren't those same two people anymore, and however well he could see straight through her intentions, he still felt a little rush of pride when he disarmed her and pressed her back against the wall, blade against her throat. He knew consciously that she had let him win, but all consciousness was overtaken by the way she chuckled and let her head fall back against the stone, trusting him to move the blade a fraction so as not to cut her. There was a brief moment of silence as they tried to catch their breath, but he kept the sword against her skin all the while.

"Only ever turn your back on a corpse," he joked breathlessly.

"I'm sure Vanez would be flattered to learn in how high a regard you hold his advice," she shot back, oddly comfortable underneath the sword when she had so much trust in the wielder. "I'd have thought you would have outgrown those elementary lessons by now."

"I would have thought you would have known how to fence properly by now," Larten remarked. By now his original purpose was nothing more than a niggling worry in the back of his mind that he hadn't quite said everything he wanted to, and for now it did not bother him. "Perhaps I should ask Vanez to revisit those beginners' lessons for you sometime."

"Perhaps you should," she said, and then her bright eyes flickered downwards for a second. "I sometimes think," she said softly, no longer baiting him. "That it wouldn't be so bad to go back to those old days, once in a while."

He chuckled, and relaxed his arm, letting the sword slide away from her throat. He tossed it on the ground next to them, barely noticing all the noise it made. "I am afraid I have not perfected time-travel, Arra," he said, a little sadly, and made to step back, clarity on the situation beginning to flood back to him. "Nothing is like it used to be. I suppose we are too old now to carry on playing silly games."

About to launch into the one thing he had wanted to tell her all night, he was interrupted again by her hand on his neck. "Just pretend," she half-coaxed, half-begged, and pressed her lips to his.

He could have told her that he had grown sick of pretending, that he was constantly pretending, and tried again to tell her, but with her hands running the length of his chest and back it had been increasingly difficult to concentrate. He couldn't decide after that whether he resented her for making it so impossibly difficult to deliver her the news she was so clearly trying to avoid or whether he simply resented himself for being such a ridiculous coward. And though he'd been able to tell Gavner the next night, and even Seba the night before he left, he had kissed Arra just before she fell asleep knowing that when she woke up he would be gone, unable to disappoint her like he had disappointed his friends, his colleagues and his mentor.


End file.
